The Cowboy In Me
by Orokid
Summary: Harry thinks about all that he's been through, and what he's like. And, also, what that special someone thinks of him...


_orokid: Okay, I know this might look a little weird, but each and every time I heard this song, I thought about poor Harry and just how he had to live with just about anything. Most of this is about how he feels in the war, and also about how he feels towards a certain young woman that just couldn't ever be replaced if she ever disappeared from his life…_

_disclaimer: I don't own neither of these things- i.e. the story of Harry Potter and the characters as well, and the song "The Cowboy In Me" which Tim McGraw is the proud owner of. Once again, I own absolutely nothing in this songfic, and I doubt I ever will. Thank you for your time, and please enjoy my story._

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_OOC_

Story

_Accented words_

_**Lyrics**_

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**_The Cowboy In Me  
_**

Harry gazed at the wall, his eyes looking at the destroyed picture frame that he had thrown only moments earlier. He had no idea why he acted in such a way, throwing tantrums and having people fear the cold young man that had been such a soft hearted boy. But it wasn't his fault that he was like he was, although some could say that he was just pushing the blame off of him yet again.

_**I don't know why I act the way I do  
Like I ain't got a single thing to lose  
Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy  
I guess that's just the cowboy in me **_

He didn't like how people revered him, how those who had little insight into the real Harry Potter thought that his life was fine and dandy. Actually, it was the exact opposite of that fact. Nothing about his life was okay, and he doubted that it would ever be alright, let alone anywhere near the phrase of normal.

The emerald orbed man could not remember a morning where he wasn't in a fit about something or another, and it seemed as though there wasn't anything that might calm him down. He hadn't a clue where he was going, other than what had been called his destiny to do- to become a murderer or be murdered.

Personally, he didn't like either of those choices.

**_I got a life that most would love to have  
But sometimes I still wake up fightin' mad  
At where this road I'm heading down might lead  
I guess that's just the cowboy in me _**

Harry never shared with anyone how he just sometimes wanted to just jump out of the window late at night and run as if there were no restrictions to his life, no need to be the savior anymore. Still, he saw in… in _her_ eyes, the eyes of the one he just couldn't live without… just how much she understood his need to just get out of there, to just get as far away as possible.

He didn't want to be the hero anymore. The stakes were just too high.

But he had no way to turn back now. He just couldn't turn his back on the people who had been so nice to… Okay, maybe not, but he just couldn't ever run from this. He had a destiny to fulfill, although not to his desires, but it was still in need to be filled and done with.

_**The urge to run, the restlessness**_

He could still remember all those times he had tried so desperately to push away his closest friends, how he tried more than ever to make her stop, to make her stay behind and not follow him into the valley of death. Sure, he had tried to do the same to his red haired companion, but… she was different. She needed to stay back and survive, even if he didn't.

And he had tried just about everything he could, just to make her stay. Even acting as though she meant nothing to him, even when she meant just about everything in the world combined.

Still, both of his best friends had been persistent and refused to give up their strong friendships just for their hides to remain unharmed. She kept on telling him how in didn't matter whether they were friends or not because both homes would've been targeted anyway- her being muggleborn, and him being the kin of a member of the Order. No matter, though, he still sought to wreck their bond, and it hadn't, nor would it ever, break to create the destruction of the golden trio.

He wished they would understand that it was better that they weren't friends.

They wished that he understood that it would always be better to stand together than apart, as they had learned and always done.

**_The heart of stone I sometimes get_**

Harry could still remember the musty smell of the quidditch pitch, long gone in his memories now since they had refused to return back to the place he had called home for nearly six or seven years now. They had a mission to accomplish, and were more than ready to leave the safety of the nest to go and fight of the crows that represented the destruction of the wizarding world, and the muggle one as well.

It seemed like a dream now how he would just let the wind hit his face, and he'd be once more away from the pressures that life represented to him. He could remember well how he to death-defying stunts, where he'd be mere inches from the ground before he would pull up and catch the snitch as if it were nothing at all.

The feat always seemed to be so much to him, to be something that was like the father he hadn't ever known. That alone was what made it all worth it to him.

_**The things I've done for foolish pride **_

But then he would remember the Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts classes he'd take, and how well he always did. No matter what, while he would practice spells and hexes upon an unlucky insect, he hadn't ever been satisfied. Harry just couldn't ever be. Not while Voldemort still lived and breathed the same air as the innocents he murdered without a second thought.

There wasn't room to be satisfied with a simple curse or hex while you were the destined combatant of the secretly loathed self-proclaimed Dark Lord that was the epitome of fear himself. Everything had to be perfect, no matter what. He had to be better than her, the one who did every enchantment correctly, who readied herself far better than either of the young men that she traveled with.

Harry James Potter had to be ready to become the man that he hated with all the passion in the world, and do something that he wanted nothing to do with.

Personally, he felt as though she should've gotten the privilege of destroying Voldemort, although he knew that he'd never allow her to commit such an atrocity. It would have become his duty, no matter what, and he knew just one thing then and there- he had to be ready.

_**The me that's never satisfied **_

He couldn't help the fist that had flown into the mirror he had been looking into, for it had flown before he could've done anything to stop himself from doing so. He almost wanted to laugh at the irony of what he had done, considering the old wives' tale about breaking glass or mirrors and such.

Seven more years of bad luck… Ha! Try a childhoods' worth, or even a complete lifetime. Hell, if he didn't have bad luck, then Harry knew that he wouldn't have any luck at all, to tell the truth.

As bad as it sounded, it was truer than anyone could ever understand. He didn't have any good fortune when his personal life was involved. Truthfully as well, the only time he had any good luck was when he was on his broom, looking for a miniature winged golden ball, but that was only a portion in his existence. He still had the other four-fifths of his life that was worse than the papers ever wrote, that was worse than anything anyone and everyone had even heard about.

And only _she_ understood, or at least tried to.

**_The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see  
I guess that's just the cowboy in me_**

He couldn't help but smile as he thought about the young woman who had taken up much of the thinking area in his brain. She was what kept him from running, kept him from insanity. As much as he would always deny what feelings that was inside of him, they were there, living, existing far longer than he supposed they should've. But that didn't matter anymore.

She was the one that kept him _living_, and in all aspects.

_**The urge to run, the restlessness**_

He knew that there were more times than not that he could be a downright prick, and that there were times that he would have preferred that his friends just leave him be and forget about him. It would be better for everyone, whether they understood his reasoning or not, but it was always a better choice to stay as far away from him as possible.

Harry always did what he could to get them away. He always did, for he thought it was something that they would prefer anyway. The last thing he wanted, that he just knew they didn't want as well, was the death of the two people that he cared so deeply for.

Although he secretly admitted that he liked one more than the other…

**_The heart of stone I sometimes get _**

He wouldn't ever admit it, but he usually would do anything and everything for the young woman that he wouldn't share with just anyone- although he had to with his best mate, of course. The redhead man was hers as well, although the emerald orbed one always had the confidential wish of being the only one who would be there for her for the rest of their time together, no matter how long or short that would be.

He'd never tell anyone how he had felt his heart stop completely when she had hit the floor of the Department of Mysteries, or that she was the reason he kept on walking, talking… him just existing was her fault, and he forever would thank her for it. Of course, he wouldn't thank her out loud, but he would find ways to appreciate all the things she had ever done for him, helped him with. There was always a way.

That was what he had learned after all these years, and he was going to make her smile for as long as he had the ability to.

**_The things I've done for foolish pride_**

Harry remembered how she would stay up late at night, helping him master spells that took a normal wizard or witch years of practice to accomplish. He knew that neither of them got much sleep, although he always would ask her to at least try to get some rest.

Although she'd take a nap, usually when she'd lay her head upon his shoulder or his lap, that wasn't ever enough for him to accept as an okay thing. He'd make her get more rest than she probably needed, and she would fight him little on the matter being the fact that she was exhausted in both body and mind. Personally, he was glad that she wouldn't fight him on the subject, and even more so when she'd find herself napping upon him.

And that was made him feel like he belonged, if even just a little tiny bit.

Still, though, belonging with her as a friend just wasn't enough for him. Harry James Potter wanted more than the friendship that she was willing to give and share with him.

_**The me that's never satisfied **_

His emerald eyes reflected in the shards, and he couldn't help but think that his eyes were the cause of the entire burden he carried. That was why he had to fight. They were his mother's eyes, and he had his father's features. Everything about him make him want to shatter each and every mirror that he would see himself in because he just hated what he was.

The son of a kind and loving couple.

The son of a murdered, kind and loving couple.

The one that was destined to become something that he wasn't ready for, although he didn't have a choice in the matter.

He never found that fact in any extremity particularly fascinating, let alone something that should make you famous. In fact, all he wanted was to take that fame and destroy it, then become a normal boy, a normal man. All he wished was that Voldemort never existed, and that his whole life, from the murders until then, was just some sort of dream- a nightmare.

**_The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see  
I guess that's just the cowboy in me _**

The door nearby him opened, revealing the shape of the young woman he had found himself thinking about more often than not. She didn't smile when she looked at him (although neither did he place a semi-happy smile upon his face at her arrival as well), but her eyes filled with sadness, and maybe even a little pity for the Boy-Who-Lived- although he was more of the Boy-Who-Suffered than anything. Slowly, carefully, she stepped over the glass shards, moving over to his knuckles that he hadn't even realized to be bleeding.

She cradled the hand in her own two, looking at the wound carefully, thinking and estimating the damage that had been done. He knew that she wouldn't say anything about the broken mirror, let alone his bloody hand. They understood one another well enough that no words had to be said to tell the other just what had gone on.

She knew how much he hated looking at his reflection, at the murderer-to-be.

Gently, she blew on the cuts, using only one hand to hold his up while the other reached for a nearby cloth to tie up the bleeding gashes. He watched her as she pulled, ripped, and tore a piece of the gown that she wore, only to tie it tightly around his knuckles- which then told him that she didn't have her wand on her.

Truthfully, he doubted that she would, since it was the middle of the night and they were safe in the confinements of their rooms.

Softly, her lips grazed the tips of the makeshift, and she only looked up to him to show him a caring smile. He wished that he could've seen more in there, although he knew to never even dare to question whether she felt more for him or not. He didn't want to, for fear of loosing the girl he maybe loved.

**_Girl I know there's times you must have thought  
There ain't a line you've drawn I haven't crossed_**

"You should get some sleep, Harry," she whispered to him, still holding onto his hand that he had injured, cradling it carefully in her hands so not to harm in even further. She reached up with one of her hands, her palm resting softly against the skin of his cheek, which he instinctively laid into. "You know I don't like it when you walk around like the living dead." She stared straight into his eyes, her chocolate orbs glinting with some emotion that he had yet to find out about, as well as the look that Harry Potter found himself unable to disagree to.

"I suppose," he answered back, knowing that he just couldn't tell her that he'd do as she said, just as long as she too got some sleep as well. Still, he knew that she understood his thoughts almost as well as he did, and he only hoped that he knew her that much as well. He wished that she knew that he wished that her friendship moved on farther than either would ever allow it to, whether they cared for one another or not.

He remembered everything that she had done, how she always refused to take the freedom that he offered when he distanced himself or pushed his closest friends away from him. She wasn't going to let their friendship die, and he was internally happy that she refused his tries each and every time.

He was greatful.

But he wanted this relationship he had with this young woman to move on further more than anything, and he found himself close to moving in to steal a kiss from her.

All he knew was that, even if he wanted to, he'd never have as much courage as he needed to just lay his lips upon hers, let alone tell her just how much she meant to him. He needed all his Gryffindor courage to do such a feat, and he couldn't do it as long as some of his courage was in use elsewhere- such as defeating the one that he either would murder or would slaughter him.

**_But you set your mind to see this love on through  
I guess that's just the cowboy in you _**

"I'll go get some sleep, okay?" She looked nearly satisfied when he had said that, half wishing that she would leave the room so he could climb into bed without her presence bothering him in some sort of way (because a girl always caused a guy problems when they would watch them do just about anything).

Hesitantly, she nodded, lowering her eyes as if she were hiding something from him, just like he was from her. He didn't wish to get his hopes up or anything, so he kept the ideas as minimal as possible, deciding that she wasn't keeping anything from him that he wouldn't particularly might being joyful about. "A-Alright, then. So… I… I'll see you in the morning then?"

He nodded, watching her turn his back to him, and he felt the world stop as his choices ran through his mind. Harry knew what he wanted to do, but… did he even dare to maybe destroy the friendship that they had taken so much time to build together?

He didn't know but he was getting tired of the fact that he had no choice of matters, that he wasn't ever going to be able to smile for once in his entire life. This emerald eyed being wasn't ever going to be the happiest man in his life because the woman that he desired was just out of his reach, all because they were best mates and logic refused anything more to happen.

"Wait, Hermione." He reached his arm out, grabbing onto her sleeve so to make sure she didn't leave right then, finding himself sweating somewhat as his face couldn't help but heat up at the realization of just what he was going to do. He couldn't allow her to leave right then, and he had to do something quick so he didn't change his mind.

He inhaled as she turned, and he immediately took this moment to lean in and gently brush his rough, wind-beaten lips against the soft ones that he had watched whisper the words of the books this young woman read. His heart felt like it was ready to explode, and his head was pounding with both fear and excitement. He wasn't sure about what was going to happen, but he only hoped that it would be good.

**_We ride and never worry about the fall  
I guess that's just the cowboy in us all_**

Slowly, he pulled away, his face looking somewhat like how Ron's did when he had been questioned something embarrassing or if he were angrier than a hungry serpent in the control of Lord Voldemort. From the look upon her face, he could see that hers probably looked just as red as his did, since he had broken his only mirror to look at his embarrassed face.

He swallowed, fearing the worst as she said nothing for the longest time, just standing there in somewhat of a daze. She didn't look at him, nor did she really look at about anything to tell the truth. For the first time, he had witnessed a miracle- she had gone flying into the outer space of the mind, totally oblivious to the happenings around her.

Slowly, her eyes rose to meet his, and he didn't know how to react to the nervousness he saw in those chocolate orbs, as well as the new glow that was showing out from the light he had seen earlier. The young woman before him only blushed harder, taking a slow and careful step towards him, his hand still unknowingly attached to her wrist. She moved up onto the tips of her toes, using her free hand to pull down her face the rest of the way, their lips attaching once again.

When they parted for a second time, both of them smiled softly, both embarrassed and more than happy that the event had occurred right then.

"I… I'll see you in the morning, Harry," she whispered softly as she felt his hand fall from her wrist finally, releasing her from the grip that he hadn't been sure she was ready to leave. He only smiled slightly more, biting down softly on his bottom lip in an unsure way, watching her carefully so to understand just what was occurring to the two of them after that event.

This was her telling him that they would discuss the event in the morning, and the hope he had heard within her voice had been telling him that she was hoping that what had occurred was nothing close to a dream. He would make sure in the early hours of tomorrow that he would convince her, that she would remember that all that had happened hadn't been anything near a dream at all.

He nodded, smiling just a little bit more, the lines from his previous smiles showing for the first time in a very long while.

That realization made the young woman before him smile if just a little bit more, knowing that this moment was very special to the world, whether they knew it or not. Their savior had once more learned to smile. "Yeah. The morning. Night."

And, with that, the two went off to their separate dormitories to spend the rest of the night dreaming.

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_orokid: I know. The ending kind of sucked, but I was trying to determine just what would happen if Harry would've done that and how my leading lady would've reacted. I came up with the thought that, since they knew each other so well, they'd understand it if they both went to bed afterwards as if nothing ever happened. If you didn't guess by the third page just who he loved more than he should have, it was Hermione the whole time. I found while I was writing this that, even though the song had ended, I still had more to write, which explains the extra page of writing that had been made. 'laughs nervously' Anyway… Yes, its strange, but its my fanfic so- 'sticks tongue out at those who don't like the ending very well' And yes, I know, I'm childish._


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